Chapter 4
Fredrik
Istared into a pair of twinkling brown eyes, trying to ignore the itchy warmth under my collar.
I told myself I wasn’t that curious. I’d let her use the toilet and borrow the towel and whatever the fuck she needed to be okay.
This was all for public health, to stop her from peeing in bottles. Could women even do that?
There was no need to know the secrets of a woman who was here for a few weeks to sell tinsel. Not unless she was in danger and those secrets were about to rock up on my doorstep.
But I must have managed to get a little more beer in me than I usually did because I found it harder to ignore the niggling questions.
Was she in danger? Why couldn’t she return to her hometown?
My sister would have regarded this as a prime opportunity for gathering information.
A chance to be neighborly. Felicity had a lot of euphemisms for gossip.
I took a breath, weighing my words. “If I read at home, nobody brings me food or beer.”
“You weren’t even drinking the beer. You were nursing it like it was on death’s door.”
“Nice simile.”
She stuffed the towel into her pocket even though it didn’t fit and shot me a look. “Nice English degree.”
She had me there.
“Yeah, it’s pretty useless,” I admitted, following her down the stairs.
“Just like trivia, eh?” Noelle threw me a look over her shoulder before heading for the door, turning sideways to glide between two shelves as if the gap was too narrow to walk through normally.
I turned off the lights and felt my way out of the shop. I’d had years of practice navigating its tight corners. Everything about this room felt familiar. So familiar that I’d long ago stopped wondering what it looked like to other people.
Was it too crowded in here? It was a bookstore, not a gallery.
Surely having a wide selection of books was preferable to empty shelves or pretentious display tables.
The lack of floor space was my go-to excuse for not being able to host signings or other tedious events.
Instead, I stocked all the hard-to-find gems.
“Oh no!” The rumble of falling books followed Noelle’s panicked voice.
I rushed to her and found her by the front door, scrambling up from under a pile of Russian classics. I’d secured the shelf to the wall at the top, but she’d somehow managed to knock the bottom, causing the books to tumble down.
She got up to her knees and tried to straighten the shelf. “Sorry! I tripped on something.”
I could barely see her in the faint glow of streetlights and Christmas lights behind the window. No wonder she’d tripped. Why had I turned off the lights?
Berating myself, I helped her to her feet, then picked up a fallen Dostoevsky. She busied herself picking up the rest of the books, setting them back on the shelf, and turning each slightly to face the door.
“That’s okay. I don’t think they were that strategically placed.”
“Tolstoy,” she said, staring at a copy of Anna Karenina. “Do you sell anything… recent? Maybe romance?”
“That is a romance.”
She turned the book in her hands, giving me a dubious look. “Does it have a happy ending?”
“She throws herself under a train.”
She gave me a long, assessing look. “So not a romance.”
I held back a scoff. “I focus on collectors’ items.”
“I know lots of people who collect romance. Special editions and all that.”
“Special editions? What do they do? Put gold foil on the guy’s nipples?”
She put down the Tolstoy, staring at me in amused disbelief. “Have you seen a romance book lately?”
I folded my arms. “I stock some for the crochet club ladies, but they won’t touch the cartoon covers. Needs to have abs or something.”
She cocked her head, grinning. “Well… abs are nice. But I like the other styles, too. I can give you a list of my favorites if you want to give them a try?” She scanned the room.
“But you might have to make some room first. Sell a few books or something? That brown bookshelf at the window blocks the view into the store. And why is it painted brown? It looks like it’s wooden. ”
“You don’t like my shelf?”
“It’s just big and bulky and… so ugly.” She clamped her mouth, horrified. “Sorry. I meant, it’s big. It makes the room so dark.”
“Tell me what you really think,” I mused.
What the hell was wrong with my shelf? It had always been there, doing its job. Which was to block the view into the store.
Sure, the store was barely getting by. But so was I.
We were both in survival mode. It had been nearly two years since the worst tragedy of my life.
For the first twelve months, everyone had been supportive and understanding.
During my first Christmas as a widower, nobody had asked me to put up lights or redecorate.
They’d given me space and made excuses for me.
They’d bought books to support me. But now it seemed the grace had run out, and everyone was out to give their two cents on the store, my appearance, and my lack of dating efforts.
Was two years some sort of cutoff for moving on?
Of course, tourists made comments and asked stupid questions, which earned them stupid answers, but it was different when it came from people I knew. And now, from a woman who lived without a toilet or kitchen.
“Thank you for your feedback,” I said, yanking open the front door.
I needed her out of here, confusing me with those giant brown eyes, challenging the way I chose to live my life. I couldn’t entirely ignore my mother or sister, but I could ignore this one.
“I didn’t mean to offend!” she piped as I guided her down the steps. “I’m just saying if you wanted to move more copies, you could try to spruce it up a little and add some new titles.”
Irritation coiled in my gut. “I specialize in classics. There are no new titles.”
“Maybe you could mix it up a little? To get more customers.”
I’d spent most of the day behind my desk, doing a crossword puzzle, watching tutorials for making things I was never going to make, browsing an old poetry book, and snacking on a platter of dried fruit and nuts Felicity had dropped off when picking up her daughter.
My niece, Kailee, hung out at my store after school.
My sister said it was good for her to “get out of the house and hang out with people,” but the girl mostly sat in the corner reading her dragon books.
We coexisted in silence, which suited me just fine.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, diverting attention back to her. “I’ll be back before ten o’clock tomorrow.”
She smiled, and the reflection of streetlamps danced in her eyes like fireflies. “I’ll probably be waiting for you out here. Cross-legged.”
I took a deep breath. “I can give you the key.” I pulled my keys from my pocket and started detaching the right one. “There’s an alarm system, but I hardly ever turn it on. It’s off now.”
“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.
Because I don’t care if I get robbed.
I shrugged. “I’m lazy.”
“If you show me how it works, I’m happy to use the alarm system.”
“Just use the key,” I said, thrusting it into her hand.
“Are you sure?” Her baffled eyes peered at me from under the rim of a pink beret.
Steal everything. Burn it to the ground. Put me out of my misery.
I nodded. She couldn’t put me out of my misery. Nobody could. But she needed to pee, and I needed to make sure she didn’t pee in the street.
Still, her grateful smile made me feel something. Like a shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. A lingering warm glow.
“Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means!” She held the key with both hands ceremoniously, like accepting a tiny award. “I promise I won’t knock over any more books. I’ll move through your store like a ninja. Or like a ghost.”
“Just turn on the light. There’s a switch by the door.”
“No! I don’t want to draw attention. I’ll use a flashlight or something. I think my phone has one.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Fredrik. I’ve only been here for…
” She took her phone from her pocket. “Three hours, and I’ve already made a friend!
Can I hug you?” She was already hugging me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her woolly hat tickling my nose.
Something smelled of raspberries and vanilla, like a dessert.
I patted her shoulder rather awkwardly and staggered backward. “It’s nothing. Good night!”
The last thing I saw was the little bounce she did, waving the key in her hand. I’d probably made a huge mistake, but it had been a long time since I’d seen that kind of excitement. It felt good. For the first time in weeks, I felt like smiling.
I’d made it around the corner when I realized she’d evaded my question. I still didn’t know what she’d been doing at the bar.